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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23051404">Between Canons: The Year That Never Was</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisi/pseuds/elisi'>elisi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>My Immortal [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Apocalypse, Captain Jack IS The Immortal, Crossover, Illyria POV, Kiss Me Kill Me, OTP of evil, Other, The Master and Illyria are the perfect match, The Year That Never Was (Doctor Who)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:08:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,177</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23051404</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisi/pseuds/elisi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>At two minutes past eight on a clear June morning in 2007, the world ends. What can a Slayer do? A vampire, a witch? What about... a Hell God?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>The Master (Simm)/Illyria</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>My Immortal [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1521254</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Like the other parts of this series, this was designed to work perfectly well as a stand alone. All you need to know is that Jack is The Immortal, and - therefore - he and Buffy used to date. </p><p>I have indicated that there are 4 chapters - this is not quite correct. There are two chapters (both very long), and then an additional fic snippet that didn't fit into the main story, plus my notes are so lengthy that they need will need a section of their own. (I have broken AO3's Notes box before...)</p><p>Also many thanks to KathyH, who was my beta back when I first wrote this, and who created the gorgeous banner.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><i></i><p>
  <i></i>
</p><p>
  <i>Illyria: When you become a king you learn to destroy everything that's not utterly yours. All that matters is victory. That's how your reign persists. A true ruler is as moral as a hurricane, empty but for the force of his gale. If you want to win a war, you must serve no master but your ambition.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>At two minutes past eight on a clear June morning in 2007, the world ends.</p><p>There is no warning; no doom laden prophecy or cryptic signs ahead of time to alert heroes who might have averted disaster.</p><p>It is like no other apocalypse Buffy and her friends have witnessed, and not just because it succeeds.</p><p><i>This</i> time, they watch it on TV.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~~</p>
</div>Not that they immediately know that it’s an apocalypse they’re witnessing - they’re there to see aliens. Real, genuine aliens that’ll appear to the whole world live on TV, and - despite Buffy’s misgivings - everyone is excited.<p>Even Illyria feels a stab of curiosity, although she is of course not letting on. If only they could see <i>her</i> as she truly is, they’d not fawn over talking metal balls...</p><p>But they can’t see her. Their minds are too small to encompass the truth of her, of understanding the honour she is bestowing on them by choosing their company. They merely treat her as a mixture of an eccentric family member and a super-powered Slayer, and she tolerates their behaviour since she has found herself growing fond of them; marvelling time and again how creatures <i>so small</i>, so individually vulnerable, can make such a difference when united.</p><p>Especially since <i>some</i> of them are so very underwhelming... </p><p>Andrew - who, judging by his edginess, has not slept all night - is sitting closest to the TV, continually checking his watch and his recording device. </p><p>Buffy, irritably, throws a cushion at him, threatening that next it’ll be the whole sofa. </p><p>“Listen Buffy, I <i>know</i> it’s apocalypse season, but <i>please</i> can you just calm down?” Xander asks, exasperated at his friend’s ill mood, although Illyria can sense Giles’ and Angel’s silent approval of Buffy’s actions. </p><p>Then Faith chimes in from her spot in the deepest armchair.</p><p>“Xander is right, you’re more jumpy than a vamp before sunrise. Just chill, B, and watch the aliens. They’re supposed to be all nice this time!”</p><p>Spike re-enforces this, adding: “And if anything happens Love, everyone’s here just like you wanted.”</p><p>“Except for Dawn,” Buffy says, brow furrowing. One of the younger Slayers snorts.</p><p>“That’s ‘cause she knows when she’s onto a winner. What have I got to do to get sent to Rome?”</p><p>“You could start by learning Italian,” Buffy replies, then shoots Andrew a dirty look. “Or just be really, <i>really</i> annoying.” </p><p>Thankfully Illyria is then saved from further prattle by the commencement of the broadcast, which is being beamed around the world directly from ‘the Valiant’, an airborne vessel far above them. It has something to do with being ‘neutral ground’, although she wasn’t paying attention when the details were being discussed. Mostly she finds the way the world has been chopped into tiny countries quite absurd, and people’s attachments to these slivers of land even more so. </p><p>But within seconds she is attending as rapturously as all the others to the TV. Four of the alien spheres - Toclafane, they call themselves - appear, behaving exceedingly strangely as they talk to the American President. And then the newly elected British Prime Minister, Harold Saxon, jumps into the fray.</p><p>Moments later the US President is shot by one of the Toclafane, exploding in a shower of glitter, whilst Saxon laughs maniacally. </p><p>“See?” Buffy says, pointing to the screen, vindication in her voice. “See? I <i>told</i> you there was something wrong with him!”</p><p>“OK,” Willow admits, “You were right. Saxon is a complete fruit loop. What now?”</p><p>Buffy spreads her hands. “I don’t-”</p><p>Their attention is caught by the TV again as a tall, thin man in a long brown coat leaps forward. But he gets caught by two guards, and resorts to pleading with Saxon, desperate and earnest.</p><p>But Saxon turns, focussing his attention to the unknown man’s companions, and Buffy gasps.</p><p>“Immortal!”</p><p>The rest of the Scoobies exclaim similarly, and Illyria tilts her head, curious. So this is the fabled Immortal, Angel’s arch-nemesis. </p><p>He too rushes forward (impulsive, foolish) and Saxon shoots him with a strange device - something he calls a ‘laser screwdriver’ - then smiles joyously.</p><p>“And the good thing is, he’s not dead for long. I get to kill him again!”</p><p>“No...” Buffy whispers, hands covering her mouth in horror. But Illyria finds herself nodding appreciatively - Saxon might be insane, but he is clearly no fool. Turning your foes’ assets into weaknesses is commendable and clever strategy.</p><p>Buffy does not share this sentiment.</p><p>“Why is no one <i>doing</i> anything? Why are they not arresting him?”</p><p>No answer is forthcoming. They watch in dismayed silence as Saxon - or ‘the Master’ as he apparently prefers to be called - ages the brown-coated man to dotage, before bringing in the family of the other companion - a young woman called Martha Jones, who looks like she’s on the verge of tears.</p><p>“Who <i>is</i> he? How can he do all this?” Kennedy asks, perplexed and angry. “Seriously, this is <i>ridiculous</i>. Willow - let’s teleport up and-”</p><p>She stops, seeing that ‘the Master’ has turned to the cameras again, speaking directly to them.</p><p>“So! Earthlings. Basically, um... end of the world.”</p><p>“<i>Excuse</i> me?” Spike exclaims, incredulous. “He and what army?”</p><p>Music abruptly starts blaring from the TV, and Illyria wonders if maybe this is another strange ‘Reality TV Show’. Telling truth from fiction in this world of humans is not easy. </p><p><i>“Here come the drums”</i> he said. What does it mean?</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <i>[reality tears asunder]</i>
  </p>
  <p>
    <i>there’s a breach in the universe<br/>
- in <b>time</b> -<br/>
and Illyria has to reach out and touch the wall to steady herself</i>
  </p>
</div>Then a window shatters and a Toclafane swoops in over their heads. They stare at it, bewildered, when with a <i>tching</i> several previously concealed blades appear, sharp and deadly.<p>Then another sphere follows. And another. </p><p>Illyria turns her head, and through the window sees dozens of the floating balls heading straight for the Council. </p><p>Of course. </p><p>“<i>That</i> army,” she says, pointing, just as Kennedy grabs a sword and attacks.</p><p>Three seconds later she is dead. </p><p>The sword falls out of her hand, unstained and unmarked, as Willow screams and chaos breaks out.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~~</p>
</div>Two days have passed. They are barricaded in the Council, and the confinement is beginning to chafe on Illyria’s nerves.<p>Kennedy’s death caused Willow to immediately - instinctively - banish all Toclafane from the building. Her shield is still holding, but some kind of counter spell is clearly being deployed by their adversary, since they can’t find a way of getting any magic beyond their protective shell. </p><p>Trapped in more ways than one, they have tried to piece together what has happened.</p><p>There have been frantic calls, attempts at communication in this sudden and unexpected apocalypse, but what information they’ve managed to unearth is bleak - the Toclafane have been targeting Slayers specifically, and the losses are staggering.</p><p>And Buffy has not been able to contact Dawn at all.</p><p>The Slayers that <i>have</i> survived, and that they are in contact with, are all waiting for Buffy’s next move - asking what to do, how to fight, by turns despairing and offering suggestions.</p><p>Except Buffy seems hesitant to choose a course of action. They do not know how to battle this adversary. The spheres are (so far) impossible to fight, and the Master - despite belated, frantic, research - an unknown, who apparently appeared out of thin air eighteen months ago and proceeded to fool the whole country. </p><p>Illyria does not envy Buffy her position. Earth’s new ruler is ruthless, efficient and has been planning meticulously - it is not just aliens keeping constant vigil outside, but also ordinary human soldiers; something the Slayers are far more reluctant to battle. </p><p>And Willow - their greatest weapon, and also their only current means of protection - has become withdrawn, her grief keeping everyone off-kilter as she keeps constant vigil over Kennedy’s body. Her friends are carefully keeping watch over her... ‘just in case’. </p><p>Andrew tries to point out that at least they have more space than they did at Revello Drive, and Buffy has to be forcibly stopped by three of the younger Slayers from <i>actually</i> throwing a sofa at him. </p><p>Then the phone rings.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~~</p>
</div>The discomfort is palpable, and Illyria feels the humans’ emotions like an itch beneath the skin. But if the Master wants to meet and discuss terms it is not an opportunity to be wasted, so here they are in the large hall of the Council, waiting, everyone armed to the teeth.<p>Buffy, of course, is at the forefront, flanked by Spike and Angel. Behind them are the other Slayers and to the right are the two Watchers. On the left - half-hidden by Faith - a pale Willow stands, supported by Xander. Her grief is a dark maelstrom that Illyria finds hard to stomach, and so she has placed herself as far right as possible, distracting herself by watching the Toclafane playfully chase each other outside the window and wondering what they could be. </p><p>At 7pm sharp the Master steps through the doors, immaculate in his suit and black coat, and a stark contrast to the motley group that awaits him.</p><p>Illyria feels his <i>Otherness</i> like a blow.</p><p>He looks over the assembly with a sardonic smile as he carefully demonstrates that he is unarmed, and immediately picks out Buffy who watches him cooly. </p><p>But Illyria cannot move, drawn by another not of this world. Who is he, this man who outshines the stars? This man around whom power shimmers so brightly she could touch it... She can see time fracture around him, <i>past-present-future</i> folding together like an intricate maze, contained within and around him.</p><p>Why do the others not cower before him? Have they not eyes? </p><p>As he takes one more step forward his eyes briefly meet hers, and his attention abruptly changes.</p><p>For one long, endless, second they watch each other, and she knows that he <i>sees</i> her. </p><p>Looking into his eyes, she is reminded of a line from a movie that Andrew showed her.</p><p>
  <i>‘Drums. Drums in the deep...’</i>
</p><p>Then the tiniest smile graces his lips.</p><p>“Who are you?” he asks.</p><p>Instinctively she answers in the Ancient Language.</p><p>
  <i>“I am Illyria, God-king of the Primordium. Shaper of things.”</i>
</p><p>He cocks his head. Listening. Then - she had not dared hope it - he replies in the same tongue.</p><p>
  <i>“Ooooh, old language. Very, very old. This is going to be a little tricky.”</i>
</p><p>He clears his throat. <i>“And hard on the vocal cords. Now... Illyria... That... doesn’t ring any bells. Are you one of the Eternals? I thought they’d all left this dimension. Although - clearly you are somewhat... diminished.”</i></p><p>She lifts her chin, pride (and shame) filling her. <i>“The Eternals worshipped me. Tell me, stranger, who are you and of what race?”</i></p><p>Buffy (impatient, humans are always so impatient) cuts through. </p><p>“What’s going on? What are you saying?”</p><p>The Master shoots her a withering glance. </p><p>“Silence child, the grown-ups are talking.”</p><p>Illyria smiles, pleased, even as Angel coughs, attempting to match the Master’s glare.</p><p>“We’re not all children.”</p><p>The Master turns to him; then lifts an eyebrow, dismissive. </p><p>“Oh, it’s the destiny-riddled vampire.” </p><p>He pulls a face. “Well I <i>say</i> vampire - it really is quite absurd to use that name for a pathetic, watered-down half-breed like yourself. But go on precious - how old are you?”</p><p>“Two hundred and fifty-four.” </p><p>Angel’s eyes are almost flickering gold, but the Master only smiles, the way one does when indulging a child. </p><p>“Aw bless. Well aren’t you a <i>big</i> boy! Clearly you ate up all your vegetables when your parents told you.”</p><p>“I also ate my parents,” Angel replies, grim faced. “And their friends and neighbours... I brought ugly death to anyone in my way for centuries. I am the worst vampire on record and you should make a note of that.”</p><p>The words do not have the intended effect, as the Master merely tilts his head, looking speculative.</p><p>“You know, that line would be <i>so</i> much more impressive if your so-called  ‘arch-nemesis’ hadn’t been Captain Shag-a-lot.”</p><p>Angel looks distinctly taken aback.</p><p>“You mean... The Immortal? He... he is a living legend! A foul creature from the pits of hell-”</p><p>He stops, unsure, as the Master starts chuckling. </p><p>“Listen my easily-impressed friend: The guy is a <i>con man</i>. And he really must have had a <i>field day</i> with you!”</p><p>Angel’s jaw drops, and Spike looks positively speechless.</p><p>“That’s ridiculous!” Angel finally manages, but Buffy fidgets.</p><p>“Um no, that’s... that’s true.”</p><p>Spike and Angel both turn to her in incredulous unison.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“The whole Immortal thing... it’s sort of... not real? He told me when we were dating - it was like his fairy tale hiding place. I mean, the stories were kinda made up. But he really <i>is</i> immortal.”</p><p>“Indeed,” the Master observes drily. “The freak product of a rather unfortunate accident, but that is what comes of letting humans play with things they don’t understand. <i>However</i>. Since I’m in charge now, children will not be allowed to play with matches anymore. Adults on the other hand...” </p><p>Dismissing the assembly, he once more fixes on Illyria.</p><p>
  <i>“Now - where were we?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I wish to known your origin.”</i>
</p><p>The pride on his face is clear. <i>“I am the Master. A Time Lord from Gallifrey.”</i></p><p><i>“Time... Lord,” </i>she says, tasting the word. <i>“Yes, you truly are a Lord of Time. I once wrought the power of time too, I can feel it. But what is this Gallifrey? I have no knowledge of this world.”</i></p><p>He seems taken aback. </p><p>
  <i>“You’ve never heard of it? Gallifrey - in the constellation of Kasterborous? It was known as the Shining World of the Seven Systems.”</i>
</p><p>She shakes her head, and he frowns.</p><p>
  <i>“Really, nothing? We were the oldest and mightiest race in the universe! We invented time travel, black holes... Omega? Rassilon? The Time Wars?”</i>
</p><p><i>“Time Wars?” </i>she asks, suddenly breathless. <i>“I felt a great power, death untold and the closing of the walls. Never have I come across such glory. This was your people’s doing?”</i></p><p>At this he smiles, eyes lit up with the fire of destruction, and she can feel herself spellbound. Here - <i>finally</i> - is someone who knows the true joy of war.</p><p>
  <i>“Come with me, Illyria, and I will take you to the man who destroyed the two greatest species in the universe.”</i>
</p><p>She steps forward, eager, hopeful, shaking the dust of humanity and humiliation from her feet. There is nothing for her here. Not anymore.</p><p>“Wait! What’s going on? Illyria!”</p><p>It’s Buffy again, clearly feeling left out.</p><p>The Master starts, as if he’d forgotten that the Slayer was why he came, then lies with a smoothness that’s impressive, even for a politician.</p><p>“Sorry - got a little distracted. Her Highness has been so kind as to accept a dinner invitation.”</p><p>Buffy’s eyebrows rise to near-comical levels.</p><p>“A dinner invitation?”</p><p>“Indeed. Actually I was hoping that you, my dear Miss Summers, would be guest of honour. As the leader of a world wide group of little super-powered heroines, I’m sure you can see the need for some lengthy talk. I’d prefer to do it somewhere a little more civilised.”</p><p>He shoots her grim-faced and heavily-armed cohort a droll look, but she only snorts.</p><p>“You have <i>got</i> to be kidding. You thought that making a big sign saying ‘It’s a trap’ was too subtle?”</p><p>The mocking vanishes from his face.</p><p>“Little girl, you seem to be under the illusion that you have options that do not include surrender. Let me explain something: This is now <i>my</i> world, and I am trying to be kind because... well, to be honest because I’ve never actually met a Slayer before. You used to be quite rare. So anyway - your choice is <i>either</i> to come with me now to negotiate a truce and beg for your friends’ lives, <i>or</i> for me to just kill all of you. You decide.”</p><p>Seeing her hesitation, his mouth curls into a sneer.</p><p>“I do not make empty threats. And please call off your little witch - do you think I would have come in person if you could hurt me in any way?”</p><p>He shoots Willow a dark look, and Illyria sees her look up in surprise. The tendrils of magic were as faint as day-old embers, and Illyria had barely noticed them herself. Her admiration for the Master increases.</p><p>Buffy hesitates.</p><p>“Oh - I almost forgot. There’s the matter of your sister...”</p><p>“Dawn?” Buffy asks, eyes widening. “What have you done to her?”</p><p>“Nothing... yet,” is the reply, the coldness of the smile leaving no one in any doubt of the implications.</p><p>“How do I know you aren’t bluffing?” Buffy asks, thin-lipped, and the Master pulls out a phone, pressing a number.</p><p>“Can you get Miss Summers? I need to speak to her.”</p><p>He waits a moment, then sighs.</p><p>“Well tell her that her sister is on the phone!”</p><p>Another moment, and he smiles. “So you <i>can</i> behave? Extraordinary. Now now, there’s no need for language like that...”</p><p>Shaking his head he tosses the phone to Buffy who grabs it with frantic hands.</p><p>“Dawn? Are you OK?”</p><p>The relief on her face is evident, as she proceeds to ask questions that only her sister would know the answer to, and then inquires after Dawn’s wellfare.</p><p>The Master waits a few minutes, then clears his throat. Buffy reluctantly says farewell and hands the phone back. </p><p>“Well?” he asks, and Buffy swallows, her acceptance as clear as daylight.</p><p>“If I can bring this,” she replies, holding the Scythe aloft, and the Master chuckles.</p><p>“By all means, bring the pretty toy. Now, if you’ll follow me...”</p><p>She does not come immediately. Her friends are evidently not agreeing that this is the right course of action - Giles, Faith and Spike being particularly vocal - and they confer in angry hissed whispers until reaching some sort of agreement. </p><p>The Master sighs theatrically, turning to Illyria.</p><p>“Humans. Very attached to each other. It makes for good leverage though.”</p><p>Then Buffy walks up, looking not at the Master, but Illyria, her eyes shrewd.</p><p>“You coming too?”</p><p>Illyria nods, and Buffy tilts her head, eyes narrowing.</p><p>“You want to look a little less like you came from a comic book, Mystique? Generally people dress up for a dinner party.”</p><p>Illyria shrugs, but acknowledges that Buffy’s observation is valid. She does not wish to stand out, and closing her eyes she alters her shape into something more suitable. The Master looks impressed, which is balm to her injured pride. </p><p>Buffy gives her the tiniest of grateful smiles, obviously trying to hide her nervousness and not quite succeeding. As they leave the building she turns to the Master.</p><p>“Dawn said-”</p><p>The Master laughs.</p><p>“Oh she’s a feisty one, that girl. Most of the other hostages are terrified - as well they should be - but your sister immediately worked out that if she hadn’t been killed I needed her alive. I think she’s tried to escape about a dozen times already - air ducts, bribery, lock-picking... oh all sorts of wonderfully clever plans. I really ought to keep her in a more secure holding cell, but she’s keeping the guards on their toes, and to be honest it’s wonderful entertainment.”</p><p>He shakes his head, smiling, and Buffy looks somewhere between mollified and outraged, even as she warily eyes the heavily armed security forces.</p><p>When they reach the waiting car, the Master reaches up to his ear where some kind of technology is evidently concealed.</p><p>“Fire at will,” he says, and for a few endless seconds they are left to wonder what he means by that.</p><p>Then a sudden brightness and deafening noise tears through the mild evening.</p><p>Buffy whips around, staring in mute horror at the giant fireball that has enveloped the Council building, before watching it collapse in on itself. </p><p>Illyria’s own shock is enhanced by Buffy’s instantaneous grief which pierces her like a sword; and she freezes where she stands.</p><p>But the Slayer, pure fury, whips round, and the next second has the Master pinned against the car, the blade of the Scythe digging into his neck.</p><p>“You said we would negotiate!”</p><p>But no fear emanates from the Time Lord, and abruptly Buffy crumples. Illyria sees that he holds in his hand an odd little weapon.</p><p>“As if I’d negotiate with terrorists,” he says scornfully, studying Buffy’s unconscious body, then looks up and catches Illyria’s eyes, holding the weapon aloft with a sudden bright smile.</p><p>“Stun gun. You know, I love this planet. Humans are so wonderfully inventive!”</p><p>Then he winces, bringing his hand up to his neck.</p><p>“Did she actually draw blood?”</p><p>Studying the crimson on his fingers, his eyes turn frosty.</p><p>“You’re going to pay for that - <i>Slayer</i>!”</p><p>Finally he takes notice of Illyria’s stillness, and she waits for his undivided attention before she speaks, voice as even as she can make it through the anger.</p><p>“You killed my pets.”</p><p>Facing each other across the prone body of the Slayer, he tilts his head.</p><p>“Well if you want to sue me for compensation, then I’m afraid I’ve shut down all the law firms...”</p><p>Unsure what he means, she doesn’t answer. He continues, not unfriendly.</p><p>“And surely you <i>must</i> have known that keeping heroes as pets could only ever be a very temporary pleasure, given the way they’re always so eager to throw themselves on the proverbial sword for the sake of the world, or some random stranger...”</p><p>He shrugs.</p><p>“They’d never have surrendered, so I thought it easier to kill them now, rather than spend time and effort fighting them. If you wanted them unharmed, you should have kept them on a much, <i>much</i> tighter leash. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have this young lady to attend to...”</p><p>He reaches in to his pocket, swapping the stun gun for a syringe, then crouches to roll up Buffy’s sleeve, and Illyria frowns as he injects something.</p><p>“What is this?”</p><p>“Just a simple remedy to take away her powers. Created by the Watchers - neat huh? Quite the little trade secret, of course, but it’s incredible what people will tell you with the right... <i>leverage</i>.”</p><p>Standing up he addresses the guards.</p><p>“Take her away, and make sure she’s tied up as well as can be. If she comes to, drug her. She’s smart and resourceful, and I need her for tomorrow’s little... show.”</p><p>Soldiers swarm forwards, carefully carrying away the unconscious Slayer, and one of them picks up the Scythe and hands it to the Master. Eyes dancing with mischief, he turns to her. </p><p>“Well my dear Illyria, what do you say?”</p><p>He opens the car door with his right hand, holding it for her - watching, waiting.</p><p>She studies him, as the Scythe swings lightly in his left hand, his eyes watchful behind the levity. There is no doubt in her mind that he knows the Scythe can hurt her... But if he needs weapons (even if they’re just for show) then it means that he is not invulnerable himself.</p><p>The deaths sting (grief is such an <i>inconvenient</i> emotion), but this Time Lord speaks her language in more ways than one - the first one to do so since she rose.  </p><p>Many are the lessons Wesley taught her in their short while together - the most important one being that love makes you vulnerable. You let yourself grow close, pain will surely follow... </p><p>
  <i>‘If you stay here, you'll taste grief every day, every second.’</i>
</p><p>No, the pain she feels is not the Master’s fault for eliminating his foes, the failing is her own for allowing illogical detachments. Change is the way of this world - Spike was the one who taught her that. Adapt or die. And she has no intention of dying.</p><p>Inclining her head, she slips into the back seat. </p><p>As they drive off, the sky is slowly filling with smoke from the ruin that was once the Council.</p><p>Illyria catches sight of it in the rear-view mirror, and, from her scattered Burkle-memories, recalls another ride in a sleek limousine, the shell seeking out ‘evil’ for the sake of curiosity. Her own motivations and plans are far more substantial, and she has no illusions about her host.</p><p>Leaning back, she enjoys the comfort.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~~</p>
</div>To reach the Valiant they fly in Airforce One, the President’s plane.<p>The Master is genial and talkative, holding forth about the ancient history of his people - hoping for some common point of reference - as he with great glee snacks on presidential M&amp;Ms. </p><p>“Look! They even have the Presidential seal on the box! Isn’t it <i>brilliant</i>?”</p><p>Illyria does not find the confectionery tempting, but from amongst the dusty corridors of her memory she recovers a visit to a world where a powerful species - rulers of a vast empire - stole champions out of time and forced them to fight in a place called ‘The Death Zone’. She had found this a very agreeable pastime, and discovering that Earth’s new ruler is a descendant of this mighty race is a true pleasure. </p><p>It also casts his actions in a new, and to her mind, very favourable, light. No upstart he, but a man wishing to reforge a lost history. Her humans only saw destruction, but she understands that in order to build, one first has to demolish. </p><p>Yet not even his illustrious history prepares her for the shock of stepping onto the Valiant.</p><p>Power - strong and rich - vibrates through her very marrow, saturating her senses, making them sing. She saw this power reflected in the Master, but here, somewhere, it is in its pure form. </p><p>What can it be? It feels alien to her, but power is power, and the only questions are how and when can she use it. But she has to be sneaky...</p><p>Lost in her inner world she barely notices the blonde woman greeting them, until the Master introduces her.</p><p>“Illyria - my wife. Lucy, this is Illyria, God-King of the Primordium.”</p><p>The woman shakes her hand. She is pretty, polite, and wearing a shiny garment that Illyria identifies as ‘expensive’.</p><p>“Welcome aboard the Valiant, your Highness. It’s great pleasure.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Illyria replies, even as she wonders why the Master married a human. Was it to help him to integrate seamlessly into human society?</p><p>The Master turns to Lucy.</p><p>“Illyria will be joining us for dinner.” </p><p>“How wonderful,” Lucy replies. “May I ask, is there anything you would particularly prefer? Our chefs are very versatile.”</p><p>Illyria yet again feels as if she is watching the TV... they all seem to be following a script, and she wonders if this is habit, a game, or if the Master has a genuine liking for human customs. Whatever the case, politeness is called for - but Illyria draws the line at eating. </p><p>“I do not require sustenance.”</p><p>The Master lifts an eyebrow. “Well I guess that makes life simpler. Anything we could get you, other than food? We have a supremely well-stocked wine cellar.”</p><p>She shakes her head, and his eyes turn musing.</p><p>“The blood of your enemies? It might take a little while hunting them down though...”</p><p>Illyria shakes her head again, charmed into a smile.</p><p>“Your concern is gratifying, but unnecessary.”</p><p>“Very well. All we need then is another chair. Lucy - will you see to things?”</p><p>“Of course darling.”</p><p>He gently kisses her hand, and she retreats. Exceptionally well trained, Illyria must admit, with a pang of jealousy. Marriage is certainly a good way of ensuring loyalty and devotion...</p><p>Then the Master motions for her to follow him.</p><p>“This way, please, your Highness.”</p><p>Despite her intense longing to discover the source of the power, she remains silent as he leads her through several corridors that take them to the main room, which she recognises from the TV. It is light and airy, crafted from wood and metal, and reminds her of W&amp;H’s offices - right down to the large oval-shaped conference table in the middle. At one end are double doors, and at the other three staircases lead up to a platform from which the room can be surveyed. Above is the prow of the vessel, dominated by large windows and blinking machinery.</p><p>And there at the foot of the stairs, seated in a wheelchair, is the hero whom the Master aged - a man that Illyria can now see is also of Time Lord lineage. He does not move, or in any other way acknowledge that he has seen them enter.</p><p>“Doctor!” the Master proclaims, smiling. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear that my little trip down below went almost entirely according to plan. Picked up a lovely little Slayer, who - would you believe it - happens to be one of our Jack’s past conquests! I could wax lyrical about serendipity and coincidences, but clearly the man was on a mission to sleep with the entire planet. And we both know that he has quite the weakness for self-righteous heroes, don’t we? Dear Miss Summers was obviously a great deal more forthcoming than yourself... and blonde of course. Everyone loves blondes, don’t they?”</p><p>The ‘Doctor’ stays silent, but the Master takes no notice.</p><p>“But! Amongst her cohorts I found a most incredible surprise hiding. Please allow me to introduce Illyria, God-King of the Primordium. Trapped on Earth, poor thing, and quite desperate to leave the rabble behind. Illyria - this is the Doctor. The man who single-handedly ended the Last Great Time War.”</p><p>He smiles wickedly, leaning into the Doctor’s personal space.</p><p>“She felt it, you know. Your <i>spectacular</i> destruction impressed a Hell God. You should be proud!”</p><p>The Doctor - as befitting a Higher Species - is clearly better at shielding his emotions than humans, and his feelings have not touched her. Yet, when she looks into his eyes she sees guilt and grief so vast she reels. </p><p>An unwilling warrior... a man not relishing warfare, yet carrying the burden of more death than any other. But she also senses immense resolve and power - his physical form has been restricted, but his spirit is unbroken, and she can feel the danger keenly. She has walked with heroes, and she knows the steel of their determination. </p><p>She wonders if the Master’s leash is tight enough.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~~</p>
</div>After dinner the Master smiles mysteriously.<p>“Come with me ‘Lyria. Let me show you... my <i>masterpiece</i>.”</p><p>She thinks she might be offended at the nickname, but is too curious to bring it up. The power calls to her.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~~</p>
</div>The Paradox Machine is undoubtedly the greatest wonder she has encountered since waking. The sheer power encased in the unassuming blue box (larger on the inside - it makes her smile) draws her in like a magnet.<p>But power on its own is not remarkable - it is the harnessing of it that has her reaching back to the days of creation to find anything comparable. </p><p>She can feel the living heart of the TARDIS bending to the Master’s cunning handicraft, knows that he has bent time from its proper flow, creating a world wholly his own. </p><p>“You truly are the Master of this world,” she says, observing the way he has to still a tremor of pure pleasure at her words. He, too, craves the understanding - nay the respect, the <i>admiration</i> - of a peer...</p><p>The red glow from the TARDIS bathes his face in unholy crimson; his eyes - dark and old - watch her carefully, proudly, and in her mind Wesley’s words echo.</p><p>
  <i>‘There's hope... for some. There's hope that you'll find something worthy - that your life will lead you to some joy. That after everything... you can still be surprised.’</i>
</p><p>And it is more than enough to live on.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~~</p>
</div>The following morning brings much activity.<p>The Master is crisp-looking and jolly, his humans busy setting up equipment for filming. Two guards are dispatched to fetch someone called Jack, and turn up shortly afterwards with The Immortal between them. </p><p>Illyria walks up to him, noticing that his scent is human - more or less - and that he is cloaked in grief and anger. </p><p>Yet he smiles at her, not seeing beyond the shell - a disappointingly human reaction. How could Angel have been so deceived? </p><p>“Hey there. You new? I’m sure I’d remember a face as pretty as yours...”</p><p>His voice falters as she ignores his chatter, being far more intrigued by what her senses are telling her. She has taken no notice of the tug of <i>impossibility</i> so far, since the Paradox Machine is so powerful that it has blotted everything else out - until now.</p><p>He watches her with uncertainty as she lays a hand upon his chest, but she ignores the questions in his eyes as she, shocked, grasps the truth.</p><p>He is Infinity; eternity etched into every cell, every atom. He is an impossible thing, an abomination, A Thing Which Should Never Be. </p><p>She turns, seeking out the Master; waiting until he sees her before speaking.</p><p>“It is not possible.”</p><p>Her host joins them, and The Immortal is looking from one to the other, sudden distaste colouring his features.</p><p>“Well, no, it isn’t,” the Master replies. “And yet - here he is. Which means I’m stuck with him for eternity.”</p><p>“This power - it cannot be undone?”</p><p>Her host snorts.</p><p>“Unfortunately not. Our dear Jack is a one-trick pony. Although... it <i>is</i> a good trick.” </p><p>Eyes glinting with malice he lets his eyes trail over The Immortal from head to toe, before turning to her. </p><p>“Don’t worry, your Highness, you’ll get ample opportunity to play. But... there’s official business to deal with first! Please, take a seat.”</p><p>He leads her to a chair next to his wife, and she settles down, curious. Lucy smiles at her, yet Illyria can sense a slight hostility that she diagnoses as jealousy. It amuses her.</p><p>A moment later the Slayer is brought out; she is shackled and bruised, but clearly unbowed. Illyria feels an odd pang at the sight, and wonders how she became so attached to these creatures. A King must kill all warriors who oppose him, that is the only true way of ruling. Really, the Master is doing her a favour by getting rid of any opposition...</p><p>As Buffy looks around - always planning, always plotting - her eyes meet The Immortal’s, and it is evident that the rest of the world ceases to exist for them. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” The Immortal says, voice barely above a whisper, such hopelessness and sorrow in his words that Illyria can barely contain a shudder. She wants to kill him just to get rid of the taste in her mouth.</p><p>But Buffy shakes her head, unspoken forgiveness in her eyes, before turning to the Master who has come up to her.</p><p>“Where is Dawn?”</p><p>He looks down for a moment, as if trying to gather his thoughts.</p><p>“Now - if you <i>hadn’t</i> attacked me last night, I might have allowed a final farewell. As it is, I’m afraid she’ll have to watch your execution on TV like the rest of the world.”</p><p>He shrugs, but Buffy doesn’t flinch, her eyes coldly fearless as she studies him. </p><p>“The first time I died, it was at the hands of another loon calling himself ‘The Master’ who wanted to rule the world. Let’s just say that his plans didn’t work out. So trust me, sooner or later someone will smash <i>your</i> bones to dust too.”</p><p>She turns her head and catches The Immortal’s eyes again, and this time he smiles back grimly. </p><p>“Anything for you, Princess.”</p><p>But the Master just shakes his head, curbing a smile.</p><p>“Little Slayer - he’s not Prince Charming; he’s a very naughty boy!”</p><p>Reaching out he pats her cheek - but Buffy looks like she might bite his hand, and he withdraws it a tad more swiftly than necessary. </p><p>Turning to a technician he asks if they’re ready to broadcast, and gets the go-ahead.</p><p>Walking to the front of the room he ascends the stairs, and Buffy is led forward, so she stands below him. She scans the assembly, her eyes lingering on Illyria for one, interminably long second, but Illyria can’t decipher the look on her face.</p><p>The Master looks into the camera, beaming wickedly.</p><p>“My dear subjects. Welcome to Morning Execution. But - first of all I want you to meet someone. I give you - Buffy Summers.”</p><p>The camera lingers on her for a moment, then sways back to the Master, whose demeanour has switched to ice.</p><p>“Those of you who know her, pay attention. The Council is no more. You are all very, very alone. And I will <i>find</i> you, and I will <i>kill</i> you. Like so.”</p><p>He lifts his hand, holding the laser screwdriver aloft, and, before anyone can move, a golden beam singes the air. </p><p>A second later Buffy’s limp body hits the floor.</p><p>The choked breath from The Immortal is like sandpaper against Illyria’s already fraught nerves; but when she turns to look at him, she sees that his eyes are dry, and that he is observing the Master’s continued monologue with such intense hatred that she finds herself impressed. </p><p>Still, she wishes he could shelter his grief more effectively - he radiates centuries’ worth of pain, and it is deeply unpleasant to be in his presence. She can understand the Master’s delight in an unbreakable toy, but - despite his generous offer of sharing - she thinks it is not for her.</p><p>When the cameras turn off the Master makes for the Doctor, so Illyria quietly slips to the back of the room to speak with ‘Jack’, watching him impassively as he recoils from her presence. There is nowhere for him to go.</p><p>And she has an odd impulse to somehow help him - she can see how lost he is, and recalls the difficulty in learning to live in a new world. </p><p>“What do you want?” he asks, feigning casualness, but she ignores his request.</p><p>“Heroes do not accept the world the way it is. They fight - and die - for what they believe, even when they have no hope of achieving it. Like Buffy. But her fate can never be yours: Since you cannot die, you are twice the impossibility if you persist in your foolishness. You wish to be moral; you cling onto hope against logic; you mourn friends that were dying from the moment they were born. You will live forever - learn to see with the eyes of eternity, and let go of your absurd dreams.”</p><p>It is a good speech she thinks, re-affirming to herself why she is here, but his response is to shake his head slowly, blue eyes stunned and hostile.</p><p>“Who... <i>what</i> are you?”</p><p>She lifts her chin.</p><p>“I am Illyria. If you truly knew me, you would worship me.”</p><p>“I’m afraid the only god <i>he</i> will ever worship is Eros,” the Master interjects, sauntering up. </p><p>“Anyway, ‘Lyria my dear. With the Slayer out of the way, I need to turn my attention to her sister. Why anyone would let an inter-dimensional Key run around unchecked is beyond me, and I am certainly not going to keep it, despite the lovely wrapping. Now I obviously need to destroy it without activating it, but I can’t help thinking that it’d be nice to somehow utilise all that fabulous power somehow. Care to lend me a hand, since this is probably more your area of expertise rather than mine?”</p><p>He offers his arm, and she takes it with a smile; his flattery much to her taste.</p><p>She never notices the men who walk past them, carrying Buffy’s body; nor hears The Immortal’s almost-inaudibly whispered oath.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div>Time passes.<p>Illyria watches as the Master meticulously and mercilessly plans his onslaught against the universe, turning all of Earth into a rocket-ship factory - hundreds of thousands of warships being built. A fleet - an army - the like of which she has never seen.</p>
<p>She once told Spike that to conquer all, and to never die, that was winning. </p>
<p>He had not understood.</p>
<p>But the Master’s eyes are fixed on this goal, his ambition stretching to the farthest reaches of the stars and the end of time.</p>
<p>When she looks into his eyes, she can see herself, her own dreams and goals reflected back perfectly in this Time Lord - a man re-creating himself as God.</p>
<p>There are no words for the feelings he inspires in her.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~~</p>
</div><i>Sometimes, he thinks he could spend forever watching her - his Lyria.</i><p>
  <i>She has not objected to the nickname, a fact which pleases him: Lyria,  from the Greek ‘Lyris’, suits her perfectly. She is so deceptively slender and fragile looking - much like a lyre; and he wishes he could thank who ever chose her shell.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Glorious, graceful and unearthly - divine, in matter of fact - she, with her very being, speaks of a time when worlds were forged and life itself first was set alight. It’s intoxicating.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Being part of another duet was not something he’d ever thought would happen, but the whole world dances to the music they make - drums and lyre together in perfect harmony. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>He is Master of everything, except her - yet she defers to him. And even though he knows that she is just waiting for her chance, he can’t let go; because when he looks into her eyes he sees Godhood reflected back. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>He speaks five billion languages, and yet he has no words for the feelings she inspires in him.</i>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~~</p>
</div>Every person on board the Valiant is on deck.<p>Far, far below on Earth a once-great Empire burns - and come tomorrow Japan will no longer exist. </p>
<p>The Jones family - Martha’s father, mother and sister - look like they’re going to be sick. The Immortal tries his best to suppress his emotions, but Illyria can smell the tears. The Doctor has retreated so far into his silent shell that she wonders if she will ever hear his voice. Lucy looks cold and pale in a blood-red dress as she stands stiffly by the Master’s side - today there will be no dancing.</p>
<p>The rest of the humans - guards, servants and consorts - huddle together in a nondescript mass, radiating nothing but fear.</p>
<p>The images are being beamed around the world live, so everyone can see the scar the Master is creating on the planet; a far more vivid and gruesome reminder of his rule than the statues he has erected.</p>
<p>Illyria, as always standing alone, is torn between observing the destruction below, and watching the Master’s face. When he decimated the human race on that first, fateful, day she was stuck down on Earth, only hearing second-hand tales. This time her view is unrestricted and magnificent; and she wishes that it was <i>her</i> hands only wreaking this ruination - she who was once the immaculate embodiment of rule... </p>
<p>But her army turned to dust while she slept, and then she was stripped of her power - her shell too weak to contain her.</p>
<p>And she hadn’t known how to walk in the world of humans - thinking that maybe her time truly had passed, like Drogyn said. That being so reduced, she could no longer grasp that which had once been hers.</p>
<p>Then came the drums.</p>
<p>Illyria listens carefully to the music the Master plays - watching, learning, planning. The shell had an aptitude for the kind of power he uses, and he is often only too happy to talk at length about concepts he thinks she does not grasp.</p>
<p>But if she is to make his empire hers, she needs to know everything, anticipate everything, control everything, and destroy every threat. </p>
<p>Not an easy task, and today’s devastation has provided a welcome distraction. </p>
<p>Long after the Master has dismissed the assembly, Illyria still stands at the circular window, gazing at the fires below. Night is falling, and the blaze glows like an unholy jewel in the darkness.</p>
<p>He comes up behind her, and she smiles even though he can’t see her face.</p>
<p>“It’s good, isn’t it?” he asks when he is by her side, and she inclines her head in agreement.</p>
<p>“It is glorious indeed.”</p>
<p>“Did you hear that Doctor?” he calls out, but the Doctor doesn’t answer. His obdurate silence brings Illyria out of her reverie, and she decides to broach a subject she has long pondered.</p>
<p>“The Doctor - he plots against you. He can undo you. He is a danger.”</p>
<p>She turns her head, observes the proud, half-hidden smile in the corner of the Master’s mouth.</p>
<p>“Oh yes.”</p>
<p>“Then why do you not kill him?”</p>
<p>“The cosmos without the Doctor is unthinkable,” the Master replies, voice distant, and Illyria cannot plumb the depths of the emotions behind the words.</p>
<p>Then he snaps out of his thoughts and turns to her, eyes dark.</p>
<p>“And he needs to <i>pay</i>, ‘Lyria; pay forever for what he did. This-”</p>
<p>He indicates Earth below and the universe beyond; the fires beneath them only a small shadow of the blaze he plans to unleash across galaxies.</p>
<p>“-is all for <i>him</i>.”</p>
<p>For a long moment they stand in silence, then the Master walks away, humming a doleful, unknown tune that unaccountably makes him laugh and pat the Doctor’s back as he passes.</p>
<p>Much later, she discovers that the name of the song is <i>‘You Always Hurt the One You Love’</i>.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~~</p>
</div>The only warning is a faint crackle in the air.<p>Then Willow appears, magic like a shimmering cloak around her. Illyria peeks out from behind the main console where she is studying star maps, and sees the Master look up from his work at the table, his face splitting in a wide grin.</p>
<p>“The witch! You survived!”</p>
<p>Willow wastes no time, but raises her hands, invoking powers older and darker than any Illyria has ever heard her call upon before. The Master studies her with polite interest for a moment, then holds a hand aloft.</p>
<p>“Subsisto.”</p>
<p>The spell comes to an abrupt halt, and the Master gets up and slowly walks up to her. Lucy - as usual close by - looks ready to faint.</p>
<p>“Little lady, don’t think you can come here with your borrowed powers and use them against <i>me</i>. But thank you for dropping in - life <i>is</i> a little dull at the moment. A devil worshipper certainly lightens the mood.”</p>
<p>Willow looks stunned and insulted in equal measures.</p>
<p>“I don’t worship the devil!”</p>
<p>The Master nods solemnly.</p>
<p>“Good. Because he isn’t real.”</p>
<p>Then a voice speaks that Illyria has never heard before.</p>
<p>“I met the devil once.”</p>
<p>The Master pivots, his attention abruptly on the man in the wheelchair.</p>
<p>“Doctor?”</p>
<p>Willow - seeing her opportunity - lets her eyes go black, but without even looking, the Master with a perfectly aimed punch sends her sprawling to the floor. </p>
<p>Then he falls to his knees beside the wheelchair, and the aged Time Lord looks upon his counterpart with inscrutable eyes.</p>
<p>“He was a clever chap - very, <i>very</i> clever - although not what I’d call a looker. The whole red skin plus horns combo was a little much, you know? He was tall though. About the size of... Big Ben, say? Oh - but don’t worry, you haven’t got competition.”</p>
<p>Eyes narrowing, uncertain, the Master tilts his head, and the Doctor smiles for the briefest of seconds, as if recalling some private joke.</p>
<p>“The Bad Wolf ate him all up.”</p>
<p>This is obviously as obscure to the Master as it is to Illyria.</p>
<p>“The Bad Wolf?”</p>
<p>“You know what you lack, Master? Faith. Faith in humankind... the one thing I’ve learned is that when they stand united, when they <i>fight</i>, there is no finer species in the universe. They have bravery and strength that you can only dream of...”</p>
<p>Illyria notices the tiniest of movements out of the corner of her eye. Willow, her head raised a fraction, is softly weaving magic, binding the Master with invisible bonds - as fragile and deadly as a spider’s web. </p>
<p>For a moment she is frozen. But she knows that she is not ready yet, and besides she does not feel like battling Willow and the Doctor by herself - she is sure he, at least, would have no qualms about killing her. </p>
<p>On soundless feet she walks over to the railing, then leaps down onto the floor, her hand around Willow’s neck a second later.</p>
<p>“Desist your foolish games. You should not have come here.”</p>
<p>“Illyria?” Willow gasps, and the Master turns from the Doctor, in an instant grasping the situation.</p>
<p>“Oh, I <i>see</i>.” </p>
<p>He turns back to the Doctor, pure scorn dripping off his voice.</p>
<p>“I <i>did</i> wonder at the sudden talkativeness... Well, Doctor, that little pep talk is going to have some rather unpleasant consequences.”</p>
<p>“Master - listen-” the Doctor tries, but the Master interrupts.</p>
<p>“Oh no, I’m <i>not</i> going to listen. Especially not if you’re going to sprout more human-loving nonsense... ‘Lyria dearest, remind me - what was it you used to call humans back in your day?”</p>
<p>“They did not merit a Name. Humankind was nothing but the muck at our feet, of no more consequence than the leaves on the trees or the stones on the ground.”</p>
<p>He beams, and Illyria smiles back as she gracefully stands up, pulling a speechless Willow with her.</p>
<p>“Doesn’t she just have the most wonderful way of putting things in perspective, Doctor? You just keep on putting your faith in the muck - <i>I</i>, however, believe in God, and so far she has answered all my prayers!”</p>
<p>Willow starts fighting then, doing her best to escape Illyria’s grip.</p>
<p>“I can’t <i>believe</i> you!” she splutters, trying to twist her head to look at Ilyria. “We <i>trusted</i> you! And you’re <i>helping</i> him? You might as well have killed Buffy yourself, you disgusting, backstabbing, murderous-”</p>
<p>The Master in two steps closes the distance between them, before putting a finger under Willow’s chin, turning her head towards him, and Illyria cautiously lets go.</p>
<p>“Now, now, no need for that. We’re all murderers here.” He stops and tilts his head, eyes so keen they burn. </p>
<p>“Aren’t we, Miss Rosenberg?”</p>
<p>Willow swallows, and the Master’s eyes are coolly smug.</p>
<p>“I did my homework. So... let’s see if we can’t make things a little more interesting.”</p>
<p>Grabbing hold of her wrist, his eyes narrow.</p>
<p>“Now I <i>can</i> trust you to stop trying your little spells, yes? Unless you enjoy being gagged? Actually I might gag you anyway... Hmm, tie you up in a pretty parcel; all fire and sorcery. Oh I think I shall enjoy you very much indeed.”</p>
<p>Willow recoils, revulsion warring with dread on her face as the Master, eyes radiant, looks ready to eat her up. </p>
<p>He is clearly delighted at his new toy, and Illyria watches with fascination as she sees Willow begin to understand that the Master does not see her as a threat at all - thinks her powers only a pleasant frisson for him to get a kick out of.</p>
<p>Willow starts struggling again - anger sparking in the air - and the Master frowns, tightening his grip and bringing out his screwdriver.</p>
<p>“Yes, obviously as fire-y as the hair would indicate. However, you need to understand that if you don’t behave, <i>others</i> will pay. Remember Japan?” </p>
<p>Then, half-turning, he addresses his wife, eyes not leaving Willow who is beginning to pale. </p>
<p>“Lucy, get the handcuffs. You know, the <i>special</i> ones.”</p>
<p>Lucy runs off - oh so biddable still, even though the Master is anything but faithful - and returns moments later with two metallic hoops held loosely in her hand.</p>
<p>“Thank you, darling,” he says, then snaps one on his own wrist and the other on Willow’s, letting go of her in the process.</p>
<p>“Well then gorgeous. You move more than ten feet away from me, you get zapped by ten thousand volts. Understood? Now please follow me - I think it’s time for a little reunion.”</p>
<p>“Reunion... <i>Dawn</i>?” Willow asks hopefully, and the Master’s laughter rises like a bubble.</p>
<p>“Goodness me no, she’s long since gone. <i>Such</i> pretty green energy, put to much better use than a feisty girl could ever dream of.”</p>
<p>The news leave Willow silent and sick-looking, and Illyria wonders if she should tell her that it had been quick and painless. She knows that this is what you are supposed to say, and it would even be true in this instance. </p>
<p>On the other hand, she can’t help noticing that the news have made Willow suddenly more acquiescent, and this is certainly a state to be encouraged.</p>
<p>As they leave the room, the Master turns in the doorway, taking a long look at the Doctor.</p>
<p>“I’d love to bring you too, but I don’t want any more meddling. <i>She</i> will pay for it this time round, although I’m tempted to get in some Morris dancers <i>just</i> for you.”</p>
<p>He sends the Doctor a wicked grin, then turns to the guards by the door.</p>
<p>“If he moves so much as a millimeter - or tries to talk to anyone - call me.”</p>
<p>Then they make their way down to the engine room, where the lights - crass yellows and pinks - discolour faces and walls, and Willow seems increasingly uneasy, scanning the shadows. Walking forward, the Master claps, and Illyria can see The Immortal flinch.</p>
<p>“Jack! You’ll never guess who decided to come and pay us a visit.”</p>
<p>The Immortal raises his head, trying to flex muscles under constant strain from the chains that hold his arms outstretched, and then stares at Willow with undiluted astonishment.</p>
<p>“Willow?” he whispers, and she walks forwards, the Master momentarily forgotten.</p>
<p>“Immortal?”</p>
<p>He keeps staring, as if not believing his eyes, then looks over her shoulder at the Master and Illyria, before abruptly refocussing on Willow.</p>
<p>“Get out,” he implores. “<i>Get out!</i> Teleport away, you should never have come!”</p>
<p>Then his eyes fasten on the metal bracelet, and he swears vehemently.</p>
<p>The Master has followed the exchange attentively, and his eyes narrow.</p>
<p>“Ah, they were <i>yours</i>. Always thought them a little hard-core for the Doctor’s tastes. I ought to thank you really - they’ve come in very handy on a number of occasions.”</p>
<p>The Immortal shoots him a murderous glance.</p>
<p>“Fuck off Saxon!” </p>
<p>Willow ignores the exchange and takes a step forward.</p>
<p>“Immortal... What happened? We saw you on the TV...”</p>
<p>He sighs, that bone-deep weariness taking over that has nothing to do with being chained up 24/7.</p>
<p>“We tried. I <i>swear</i> we tried, but we were too late. Too slow. Too...” he shakes his head, and the Master cuts in, smirking.</p>
<p>“I’m <i>too good</i>, is what he’s trying to say, right Jack?”</p>
<p>The Immortal’s jaw tightens in anger.</p>
<p>“Let me out of these chains for 30 seconds and we’ll see how ‘good’ you are.”</p>
<p>His eyes are on the Master, but even Illyria can understand the concealed message, casting Willow a suspicious glance.</p>
<p>“Jack, Jack, Jack,” the Master counters, smiling sweetly, “I believe you are trying to be very naughty. You <i>honestly</i> think that she can help you?”</p>
<p>“Any port in a storm,” The Immortal replies, attempting a shrug. “Even magic - I would <i>love</i> to see you turned into a toad.”</p>
<p>The Master chuckles.</p>
<p>“Don’t be silly, magic’s not real.”</p>
<p>“But...” Jack’s eyes dart to Willow, and the Master smiles, laying his hands on her shoulders and not taking his eyes off The Immortal.</p>
<p>“Please repeat after me: There’s no such thing as magic.”</p>
<p>“There’s no such thing as magic,” The Immortal says promptly, and the Master’s eyebrows rise.</p>
<p>“Well that’s new. Or are you trying to impress the lady?”</p>
<p>The Immortal shakes his head, impatient.</p>
<p>“I never liked it, and I think it’s dangerous. If magic isn’t magical, what exactly is it?”</p>
<p>The Master slowly exhales, expression turning speculative.</p>
<p>“Are you sitting comfortably?” </p>
<p>He grins. “Of course you’re not. Well then children, let’s have a little history lesson.”</p>
<p>Even Willow has gone quiet, and The Immortal looks uncommonly attentive. Illyria wonders if his question stems from genuine curiosity or if he’s just trying to delay the inevitable. It is a good strategy though - the Master loves the sound of his own voice.</p>
<p>“To begin at the beginning: Around a hundred thousand years ago a very old and powerful species called Daemons - from the planet Daemos - arrived on Earth. They liked to run experiments on lesser species, help them evolve etcetera.”</p>
<p>“Like... 2001?” Willow asks, and the Master shrugs.</p>
<p>“A bit - most art reflects an underlying truth - but the Daemons were a lot more hands-on... think ancient Greece, the Renaissance and so forth. Anyway - all human magical traditions are nothing more than remnants of their advanced science.”</p>
<p>Willow looks at the Master with undiluted astonishment.</p>
<p>“You’re saying that magic is... <i>science</i>?”</p>
<p>He nods, and she seems to momentarily have forgotten where she is, or whom she is talking with, the conversation having engrossed her. Illyria decides to stay silent.</p>
<p>“OK, that actually makes sense,” Willow says slowly, “cause it works off basic physics principles what with energy transfers and all that, but...”</p>
<p>The Master cuts in.</p>
<p>“Your race, as a whole, decided on maths and physics as your preferred way of using and controlling power, but words are perfectly usable too. Trickier, but in many ways simpler - right words, right time, you could destroy the world... But I believe I’m preaching to the choir on that one?”</p>
<p>Whatever Willow was about to say is lost as the words hit home. </p>
<p>The Immortal however uses the opportunity to speak.</p>
<p>“But where does the power come from? They seem to pull it out of the thin air...”</p>
<p>“Emotions,” the Master replies, and they both look at him with surprise. Illyria smiles.</p>
<p>“The emotions of a group of ordinary humans generate a tremendous amount of psycho kinetic energy. As I said, the rituals are needed for harnessing and controlling the psionic forces - and the Daemon itself too, once upon a time.”</p>
<p>“So what happened to these... <i>daemons</i>?” Willow asks, her equilibrium regained. </p>
<p>The Master rubs the back of his head.</p>
<p>“Well, the experiment came to its end, and the Daemons deemed the experiment a failure - something I had rather foreseen, given the state of humanity - and I put myself forward as a worthy ruler to take over, if they’d give <i>me</i> their powers. Teach the planet how to grow up and so forth. And it would have worked if not for the Doctor and his penchant for idiot blondes.”</p>
<p>“Rose?” The Immortal whispers - fragile, painful hope in his eyes - and the Master sneers.</p>
<p>“Goodness no. Girl called Jo, who decided that if the Daemon wanted to kill the Doctor, he would have to go through her. Turned out that the moron couldn’t cope with such an illogical action, and self-destructed. Very disappointing. Thwarted by something as simple as <i>love.</i>”</p>
<p>“Because <i>love</i> is a subject you know all about,” The Immortal says coldly, and the Master stiffens.</p>
<p>“Love is <i>pain</i>, Jack - <i>everyone</i> knows that.” </p>
<p>For a moment the two lock eyes, emotions weighing down the air; but then the Master turns to Willow, all business.</p>
<p>“Moving on. Let’s have a little taste of what’s actually inside that pretty head of yours. Oh, and this might hurt a bit - it’s more fun that way.”</p>
<p>He reaches out, laying his fingertips on Willow’s temples, but she abruptly grabs his arms and wrenches his hands away, radiating pure terror. Illyria wonders if she should intervene.</p>
<p><i>“Don’t!”</i> Willow says - no begs - and the Master seems genuinely thrown.</p>
<p>“Now you’re just making me curious. What could you have in there that’s so precious?”</p>
<p>She tries to run, but he catches her hand, swearing as magic bursts from her like electricity.</p>
<p>“Stand <i>still</i>, by Rassilon!”</p>
<p>Finally getting both hands to her temples again he immediately paralyses her, before he closes his eyes, smiling softly and maliciously as he makes his way through her mind.</p>
<p>“Oh - but you were such a <i>bad</i> girl, little Willow mine. <i>Such</i> a bad girl.”</p>
<p>He opens his eyes, looking deep into hers as he gives her back control over her body again. She sways, taking a deep, gasping breath, and tries to control her body’s shaking.</p>
<p>“And I’m a <i>Time Lord</i> you ninny, not a brain-sucking Hell God.”</p>
<p>He turns to Illyria.</p>
<p>“No offence.”</p>
<p>“None taken,” she replies. “Please continue.”</p>
<p>She can tell by the barely contained glee in his eyes that something has inspired him, and she is curious. </p>
<p>Willow opens her mouth - probably to say something insulting - but the Master lays a finger against her lips.</p>
<p>“But never mind that. Whoever wrote the reports on you left out a <i>lot</i> of juicy details... Such as, say, flaying a man alive in an instant?”</p>
<p>He slowly turns his head, smiling cruelly at The Immortal.</p>
<p>“And I know <i>just</i> the person for an encore of <i>that</i> trick.”</p>
<p>Illyria nods to herself softly. Of course. Like the Death Zone from ancient times - champion against champion...</p>
<p>But Willow shakes her head vehemently, defiance writ large on her face.</p>
<p>“I won’t. You can’t make me.”</p>
<p>The Master lets his hand slide down so it encloses her throat, and Illyria knows him well enough to see how he has to forcibly stop himself from breaking her neck with a single twist. </p>
<p>But she also knows that he has all the patience in the world when there is something he really desires. And he clearly has special plans for Willow.</p>
<p>“Oh you misunderstand me. I’m going to give you a choice: Flay him, and you earn yourself a swift and painless death. Or refuse, and-”</p>
<p>He stops, lets his eyes trail over her.</p>
<p>“Well, I <i>was</i> going to say that you’d die slowly, in pieces, but I don’t think that physical pain is such a great fear of yours, what with magic being so unpleasantly physical...” </p>
<p>He wrinkles his nose in distaste. </p>
<p>“No. I shall propose something much more interesting. Refuse to do as I say, and I’ll take your <i>mind</i> apart, bit by bit, until...” </p>
<p>His eyes narrow, watching her the way a cat views its prey. “Until you feel like you're in a noisy little dark room... and there are things in the dark that need to hurt you because you're bad... little pinching things that go in your ears... and crawl on the inside of your skull. And you know... that if the noise and the crawling would stop... that you could remember how to get out. But you never, ever will.”</p>
<p>Willow looks so freaked out that Illyria almost catches her breath; this is like watching the Nightmares of old...</p>
<p>The Master smiles, slowly and triumphantly.</p>
<p>“Mmm, very glad you took care of this Glorificus - since otherwise there wouldn’t have <i>been</i> a world for me to conquer, obviously - but I have to say that I <i>do</i> like her style. I’m surprised that she survived on that diet though. Human brains really are so very small - how do you get around in those things?” </p>
<p>“Willow - don’t listen. You can’t trust him!” The Immortal implores, and the Master laughs.</p>
<p>“Jack, give the child <i>some</i> credit. I’m pretty sure she knows she can’t trust me. That’s the fun. It’ll be like... Russian roulette in reverse. If you’re lucky, you die!”</p>
<p>The glee in his eyes makes Illyria smile - there is something too wonderful for words in his delight. Then he holds up his hand.</p>
<p>“Before you make up your mind, I thought you might like to know that he?” he points to The Immortal, “-is not a hero. Oh, if you knew the things he’s done... What do you say Jack, should we start digging around in <i>your</i> past? Tell her a little about who you <i>really</i> are.”</p>
<p>Illyria looks from one face to another, knowing that all that’s in store for them is perfectly executed pain and destruction. The Master truly excels at this - this peeling away of masks, exposing people’s deepest fears and playing them against each other...</p>
<p>It is torment for torment’s sake, and it makes Illyria feel... bothered. And even though she tells herself that Willow <i>must</i> have known that what she undertook was a suicide mission, she can’t stop the discomfort.</p>
<p>Willow’s pain should be of no more consequence to her than a mote of dust caught in the wind; the fate of a human being weigh less than air in her mind. </p>
<p>Yet it feels like Buffy’s execution again... although this time Illyria is not obliged to watch. </p>
<p>She walks off wordlessly, wondering if she’ll ever be able to get rid of the taint of humanity that seems to cling to her still, and hoping that the Master can’t tell her true motivation - she can afford to show no weakness.</p>
<p>Also Willow ought to keep him entertained - and distracted - for a long while, something entirely to Illyria’s advantage...</p>
<p>But for once the Master’s plans do not work out.</p>
<p>He returns to the main room not long after Illyria, furious and covered in (human) blood. Through clenched teeth he orders the Jones’s to ‘go clean up’ - then kicks the Doctor’s wheelchair so hard it falls over, before playing ‘dodge the laser’ with the guards, killing one and maiming two. When his wife tries to attend to him, he beats her.</p>
<p>Illyria, fascinated, wonders just how close Willow came to killing him.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~~</p>
</div>Meanwhile, down on Earth, Martha Jones meets with the leader of the resistance, a young man known only as Connor.<p>He is not at all what she expects.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~~</p>
</div>The Master’s bad mood and casual destruction lasts for nearly a week. Illyria wonders if the tantrums are part of his nature, or the result of spending so much time with humans that their less savoury traits have rubbed off. Whichever way, she disapproves.<p>She wishes that she knew <i>what</i> Willow did, though, since it would be a great help to her own plans. Unfortunately she can’t uncover any details since The Immortal can’t be persuaded to speak - something especially galling to her, because in the grim defiance of his smile she can see that he knows things that would most definitely be of benefit.</p>
<p>Even the Jones’s appear almost cheered, despite the increased peril. </p>
<p>Fed up Illyria returns to working out a way of winning the Toclafane’s loyalty, something a great deal trickier than murder, and Willow’s unfortunate visit recedes in her mind.</p>
<p>It helps that the Master’s mood turns from manic to broody, something she is far more comfortable with, although she notices that he seems to watch her with increased concentration... </p>
<p>She shrugs it off as paranoia (a human term she has grown to appreciate), until one day - two weeks after Willow’s stunt - she walks into the main room and finds the Master sitting on the large black table perfectly alone. </p>
<p>This unprecedented fact stops her in her tracks, but, before she can fight or flee, he tosses a flat, seashell-shaped object down by her feet. </p>
<p>To her bewilderment it causes something like a huge, vertical tunnel to be created, trapping her inside.</p>
<p>“What is this?” she asks, and he jumps off the table, walking up to the tunnel and studying her through the hazy barrier.</p>
<p>“A portable, inflatable holding cell,” he answers. “Very practical, don’t you agree?”</p>
<p>“It will not hold me long,” she retorts, and he nods.</p>
<p>“I know. I just wanted to say goodbye without your hands around my throat.”</p>
<p>“Why now?” she asks, and he sighs. </p>
<p>“In one word: Willow.”</p>
<p>She nods. Clearly the attempt on his life affected him a great deal more than she thought. She wishes she’d killed the witch herself when she first had her in her grasp.</p>
<p>The Master turns and retrieves the Scythe, which has been hidden from view under the table. </p>
<p>“I really wish I didn’t have to do this, but I think we’ve both known the truth of the situation since we first met: The universe is just not big enough for the both of us.” </p>
<p>He smiles lightly, shadows dancing in his eyes.</p>
<p>“I’ve found your sarcophagus, by the way - a task which was far from easy given the state of LA in general and the ruin of Wolfram &amp; Hart in particular. But it’s a tough bit of hardware you got, so I’ll make sure you go back in the Deeper Well with all the others. Seems the least I can do.”</p>
<p>He reaches out, almost touching the barrier.</p>
<p>“It truly has been an honour, your Highness. But I have a universe to conquer, and am getting tired of people looking to stab me in the back - however divine, or worthy, they may be.” </p>
<p>She raises her own hand, mirroring his pose, simultaneously letting her appearance return to blue - there should be no lies at this moment.</p>
<p>“To die at your hand, is not a dishonourable fate. May the worlds fall to their knees and tremble when they meet you, as they once did for me.”</p>
<p>At her words he takes a deep breath, briefly closing his eyes and swallowing.</p>
<p>“<i>Dammit</i>, ‘Lyria. I promised myself I wouldn’t get emotional. Well, not in that sense. After all, how many people have killed a God?”</p>
<p>Hefting the Scythe he pauses for a second - wiping away an errant tear - but a second is all she needs.</p>
<p>Belatedly she realises that he’d anticipated this.</p>
<p>The moment her hand rends the barrier it transforms into a slow-release time-field, giving her adversary more than ample time to take perfect aim. </p>
<p>In his eyes, she sees regret and vainglory warring with blood lust; and she smiles, because she knows that this is love.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~~</p>
  <p>Then, oblivion.</p>
  <p>~~~</p>
</div>At two minutes past eight on a clear June morning in 2007, the world doesn’t end.<p>There are no signs or heavenly spectacles to tell the world that disaster has been undone. Only suddenly-gone-blank TV-screens, leaving people to wonder at what they just saw. Did the British Prime Minister really just assassinate the American President?</p>
<p>But Buffy and her friends encounter one more puzzling occurrence: Illyria’s behaviour. She rails against the snowstorm on the TV - insisting that things are <i>wrong</i>; that time has come unstuck; that the drums are lost. And when it is shortly afterwards announced that Harold Saxon has been killed, she weeps. </p>
<p>She never tells them why.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~End~</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please also see the extra fic snippet and the notes.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Coping With Deicide</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Extra little scene that wouldn’t fit in the main fic. Set after Illyria’s murder, it addresses the Master’s feelings.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>“You’ve heard the news, right?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He must have dozed off, because Jack didn’t notice the Master’s arrival. He’s standing right in front of him, eyes hot and unhinged.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I killed God today!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He takes a step back, laughing triumphantly, and Jack tries to get the fog out of his brain. The Master looks dishevelled - the shirt is unbuttoned at the top, and stubble is beginning to show. In one hand he holds a near-empty whisky bottle, and in the other his screwdriver.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Jack can feel his spirit sink through the floor. He is again reminded of the fact that the Master is completely and utterly <b>insane</b>... Not just dangerous, or evil, but entirely unpredictable, and tonight he’s obviously even more unhinged than usual. Why is he here?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“How many people can say that, hm?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The Master lifts the bottle to his lips and empties it, eyes sliding past Jack into something unknown.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“She was so... beautiful... so perfect, so dignified, even in death...”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Gritting his teeth Jack ponders the endless unfairness of this life. Every execution is beamed across the world, yet this one - that he’d have been happy to have on repeat for days - the Master decided to perform in private. He knows he should keep his mouth shut, but he just can’t help himself.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Well the dead woman she was wearing was certainly easy on the eyes.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The next second the bottle hits his face, smashing against his cheek with such force that he almost blacks out. By biting his cheek he manages to stay silent, even though the last dregs of alcohol are burning in the open wounds.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“‘Easy on the eyes?’ All you saw was a shell... it’s like a deaf man saying that he likes music because he thinks the instruments are pretty...”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The Master slumps down on the floor, looking lost and forlorn, and Jack wishes there was some way of stopping the blood from dripping into his eyes.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“You couldn’t see her - any of you. Your little heads would probably have broken if you did. She was so much <b>greater</b> than you could fathom... She shaped the world, Jack - she shone brighter than the sun, and you should have <b>worshipped</b> her, kissed the ground she walked on...”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He takes a shaky breath.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“She was the only one who understood me, and now she’s gone...”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>On the last word the Master chokes up, and Jack swallows hard, his mind filled with all the people he’s lost - their names a litany that burns him with grief every waking second. And the Master is crying over a Hell God - a creature who betrayed everyone she ever met. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Anger and hatred overwhelming both pain and whatever shred of self-preservation he still has, he speaks without thinking.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Good riddance if you ask me.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He only catches the briefest flare of undiluted fury before the laser sears through his chest and blackness engulfs him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>When he comes to the Master is still on the floor, carefully tapping out a rhythm with his fingers, quietly humming to himself. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Jack’s face is blissfully pain-free now, and he keeps as still as possible so as not to unleash any more violence - although the Master’s anger seems to have passed.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The peace is shattered as the Master’s mobile starts bleeping, and he answers immediately.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Already? All the rituals performed properly? Excellent.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He switches it off and looks up at Jack. “And she’s back where she belongs.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Jack doesn’t reply, but the Master still elaborates.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“The Deeper Well - it’s where all the Old Ones rest. Not sure ‘well’ is quite the right word though, since it’s a hole that goes right through the Earth... It used to have a guard, but, serendipitously, the guy seems to have vanished. ‘Drogyn the Battlebrand’ was his name - a proper hero type straight out of a fairy tale... Nothing like you, obviously, although I’m thinking that maybe one day - when I’m done with Earth, and have gotten rid of all the humans - you could have his job. Bit lonely, but you could always wake up a Hell God to keep you company...”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He laughs, and Jack suddenly feels cold terror grip his insides. Sure his life is hellish now, but eternal loneliness- No, he won’t even think it.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Still laughing the Master gets up, walking off without another word. Jack watches him, realising that he probably just wanted someone to take his frustration out on - someone who didn’t matter...</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The Master’s killing of Illyria might have been part grandstanding, he knows. A way of making sure they’re aware that not even a god can defeat him. But they know that he blinked. Just for a second, but Willow almost had herself One Good Day. It’ll happen again, sooner or later. And they’re planning - slowly, carefully - he, the Jones’s and the Doctor. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“We will get you,” he whispers, “and I will personally grind your bones to dust. I made a promise to a lady.”</i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Notes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>For non-Whovians</b><br/>
What happened at the end? Bascially a year after the world ended the Master was defeated (long story - Martha saved the world!), the Paradox Machine was broken, and time rewound to just after the President had been shot. The only ones to remember the Year That Never Was were the people on board the Valiant at the time... And Illyria. ‘Cause I figure she’s clever like that. :) Oh and the Master gets shot by his wife and dies because he refuses to regenerate, even though the Doctor begs him to. (Dying out of spite - I <i>love</i> it!)</p><p><b>Master/Illyria</b><br/>
I think I’ve shipped these two almost since Simm!Master first showed up. I quoted her <i>‘Serve no master but your own ambition’</i> in my VERY long and rambly <a href="http://elisi.livejournal.com/272730.html">Doctor/Master essay</a> that I wrote after S3, and added this:</p><p>
  <i>It occurs to me that Illyria and The Master would be the most formidable partnership... there should be fic. Just imagine the possibilities...</i>
</p><p>Took me a while to get there, but as I had guessed they were absolutely perfect for each other. It was tricky trying to match up the timelines &amp; ‘verses - especially since the shows are pretty vague about when stuff happened ‘back in the old days’ - but figured that it was not unfeasible for Illyria to have come across Gallifrey at the time of its empire, before the wars that made the Timelords retreat to their own planet and swear non-interference.</p><p>And of course the Master and Illyria share a certain outlook on the world, and what one should do with it. Interestingly, writing them I unwittingly shed light on one of those lines of Illyria’s that always seemed exceedingly odd:</p><p>
  <i>Wesley: Does it sting you... my betrayal?<br/>
Illyria: Betrayal was a neutral word in my day, as unjudged a word as water or breeze. No. (looks away) Or perhaps... I am only bothered because I am bothered.</i>
</p><p>Wesley’s betrayal <i>does</i> bother her, whereas the Master’s doesn’t at all. And I realised that ever since they meet, they both know that one of them will end up killing the other. It’s fundamental to how they interact and as a matter of fact they wouldn’t expect anything less. Betrayal really is a neutral word.</p><p>Also I hope that you think Illyria’s characterisation rang true - she obviously gets attached to Angel &amp; co. on the show, and I think this would continue, partly just because she hasn’t got anywhere else to go.</p><p>But if someone held out an empire that she could take I think she’d go for it, definitely, no matter the cost. Furthermore I don’t think she’d think human emotions something to be proud of particularly, and would do her best to suppress them.</p><p><b>Magic</b><br/>
Magic is dealt with very briefly in New Who - in ‘The Shakespeare Code’ some witches (actually Carrionites, from ‘the dawn of time’) use ‘magic’ in an attempt to destroy the world, and the Doctor talks about how it is perfectly possible to use words instead of maths. However, this does not explain where ‘earthly’ magic comes from.</p><p>But as it happens (and the serendipity of this is pretty amazing) the ONLY Old Who story I had seen at the point of writing this fic (I have since watched <i>considerably</i> more) is ‘Doctor Who and the Daemons’, which basically gave me the information that I let the Master re-tell. And it was only as I was writing that it suddenly dawned on me that according to this, the Buffy-verse was right all along. These are the Doctor’s precise words:</p><p>
  <i>"The emotions of a group of ordinary humans generate a tremendous charge of psyhokinetic energy."</i>
</p><p>See? Emotions = power!!!!!!! </p><p>Made my day, that did! :)</p><p><b>Willow</b><br/>
Willow ought to have been on the banner, really, but I liked letting her be a surprise. :) Funnily enough the whole fic stemmed from her - originally the scene with her, Jack and the Master [and Illyria] was supposed to be a flashback (for Jack) in one of the stories in the sequel. But it just grew... </p><p>Now it struck me that Willow is the most powerful of all the Scoobies (and thus the greatest threat to the Master), and also the only one who’d be able to teleport away from danger - and so would be able to get herself out of the Council in the split-second when they realise that they’re going to be blown up. She probably managed to get in contact with some of the Slayers - and maybe even helped set up the resistance - but I think her grief (and guilt over being the only survivor) would propel her towards revenge. </p><p>I don’t know exactly what she did to the Master, but she waited until Illyria had left so he couldn’t count on any help - hence her (reluctant) going along with a lot of things.</p><p>Oh, and I like to think that her visit was timed to co-incide with Martha and Connor’s meeting - so even if she failed, the Master would be distracted and not notice what was going on down on Earth.</p><p><b>Connor (and Martha)</b><br/>
When I began thinking about what might have happened to all the various BtVS/AtS characters during the year, Connor’s role fell into place with absolute perfection. Out of all of them, he’s the one who would be perfectly suited to coping with a post-apocalyptic world, and also the Master wouldn’t know about him! And every resistance movement needs a leader... (Also Terminator-parallels ftw! *g*)</p><p>Connor's meeting with Martha is (briefly) described in the sequel, but it wouldn’t fit in this story at all.</p><p><b>Buffy</b><br/>
Oh my poor Buffy. I hope I made it clear that she was deeply uncomfortable with Saxon (she was one of the people the Arcangel network didn’t work on, of course), and after he took over she blamed herself for not trusting her instincts more.</p><p>He, of course, uses Dawn to get to Buffy, a tactic that works entirely too well. Re. Illyria then Buffy thinks (hopes) that she’s on their side - and considering that she’s helped out for 3 years, this is not unreasonable. Going into the lion’s den isn’t quite so dangerous when you have a Hell God for backup...</p><p>It was tricky trying to work out what to do with them all though - there was certainly a temptation to write lots of wacky adventures, but I didn’t want to detract from Martha’s story. Also if Slayers exist in the Whoniverse, there is no way the Master would not have taken them into consideration when he was planning his take-over. (And killing everyone was... entirely to much fun.)</p><p>Oh and I loved having Buffy and Jack mirrored on the banner, both chained up. They're both the heroes of their own shows, but this time they were victims.

And Jack's line ('I made a promise to a lady') is obviously a call-back to Spike's words in 'The Gift'. Both of them have to watch Buffy die, helpless to do anything, but both have made a promise to her, something they can cling to, something that gives them purpose.</p><p><b>Doctor/Master</b><br/>
My beautiful ‘ship... Not much to say about them, since the Doctor doesn’t appear much, although I loved making him jump straight in as soon as Willow appeared - ever the opportunist. </p><p>His words are supposed to call back to ‘The Satan Pit’: </p><p>
  <i>The Doctor (to the devil): Except that implies - in this big grand scheme of Gods and Devils - that she [Rose] is just a victim. But I've seen a lot of this universe. I've seen fake gods and bad gods and demi gods and would-be gods - out of all that - out of that whole pantheon - if I believe in one thing... just one thing... I believe in HER. </i>
</p><p>And of course it ties in with Torchwood: Children of Earth (<i>'finest species in the universe'</i> etc). </p><p>Also I need to give you the lyrics of <i>You Always Hurt The One You Love</i>, an old pop standard. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6cTxNlxPasw">Here</a> it is performed by the Mills Brothers. I’m sure you can see why the Master thinks it both fitting and amusing (the last two lines especially):</p><p>
  <i>You always hurt the one you love<br/>
The one you shouldn't hurt at all<br/>
You always take the sweetest rose<br/>
And crush it till the petals fall<br/>
You always break the kindest heart<br/>
With a hasty word you can't recall<br/>
So If I broke your heart last night<br/>
It's because I love you most of all</i>
</p><p>Oh, and in ‘Doctor Who and the Daemons’ the Doctor was almost killed by Morris dancers (the Master’s minions), in case that line confused you...</p><p>And re. old skool references, then <i>'The cosmos without the Doctor is unthinkable'</i> is a slight paraphrasing of one of the Master's old sayings: <i>'The cosmos without the Doctor scarcely bears thinking about.</i> I love continuity. :)</p><p>The Doctor is of course the hero of the piece, but even so I couldn’t help sneaking in an obscure reference to how the two of them are in so many ways similar...</p><p>This line of the Master’s: <i>’Human brains really are so very small - how do you get around in those things’</i> is lifted pretty straight from this conversation in ‘The Doctor Dances’ (1.10):</p><p>
  <i>The Doctor: Can you sense it?<br/>
Jack:   Sense what?<br/>
The Doctor: Coming out of the walls, can you feel it?<br/>
The child: Mummy?<br/>
The Doctor stops to look around at Rose and Jack.<br/>
The Doctor: Funny little human brains, how do you get around in those things?<br/>
Rose (to Jack): When he's stressed, he likes to insult species. </i>
</p><p>They - the Doctor, the Master and Illyria - are all three very much above humans, their actions determining the fate of the world. The difference lies in their motivations, in how and what they love, not in their nature.</p><p>Speaking of love, then the Doctor is devastated by the Master’s death - I loved to have Illyria mirror that grief. Two god-like creatures, as different as can be, yet in this one instant united in their feelings.</p>
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